Chapter Text
It’s not that he’s nervous. That would be silly, given how many brutal battles he has starred in without breaking a sweat. He also has married this woman before —along with other thirty-six people— at a significantly younger age, and it didn’t awake anything in him but a sense of royal duty and looking forward to the sexy parts of marriage.
Sure, some things were different that first time. For starters, the ceremony took place at midday, under a raging sun that burned his cheeks and forced him to squint his eyes —how long has it been since he had to do that at all?—. He can’t remember what she wore or how they did her hair, but that’s okay. It’s been centuries and he’ll get to see it again in a few hours. The words of his parents telling him it was what he had to do have survived in his memory for more decades than the actual sound of their voices.
Even then —with that sense of royal duty— he loved her like he was expected to. She was kind to all animals, kinder to John and the kindest to Nandor. Despite her gentle nature, she always seemed eager to hear stories about the villages he burned down and the people he tortured. To her, it didn’t matter how much wrong he did on a regular basis; she’d be right there anyway, with an unwavering sympathy he was yet to find in another bei— Eh, woman.
And he would have done anything for her. At his worst, Marwa could have stood between his blade and the most deserving enemy and convince him to let them go with a single tear if she had wanted to. She would never, of course, because she was so respectful of both his legend and the leader his soldiers needed him to be; yet the possibility was always there, threatening everything he built and destroyed. The one weakness he didn’t cut off immediately, the one he didn’t wish to get rid of.
The night they all left, Marwa was the least enthusiastic. Dalal —Nandor couldn’t tell you which one— begged her to hurry up, to take her child —their child—, to get it over with, and she still tried to stay. She still tried to hold Nandor’s hand and make him look at her, at least to say goodbye. He ignored her, brushed her away, blinded by the smoke of his growing power, and if it had been that developed yet, he would have hypnotized her to accelerate the process.
He didn’t look back, so neither did she, and a while later —days? Months?— the rejection of his own kingdom couldn’t hurt as much as that last trade of hope she had on him. He already knew he was a lost cause before everyone else disowned him.
It’s all in the past now, better said than ever. Those are the ghosts of a life they no longer lead. The pain is so washed out anyway. Maybe he should feel ashamed of how he managed to keep his human clothes in a clearer state than the name of his most beloved person. But when Marwa wraps her arm around his and stares at him like he hung the moon in a room full of assholes dying to mock him, and she calls him petnames in a language he doesn’t speak, everything makes sense. Like she’s the turtle that holds his world in place, after all.
So… why is he feeling this way? Why can’t he slumber? The fact some grooms get so anxious the night —day, in this case— before the ceremony doesn’t escape him, but he insists there must be another explanation. Perhaps his coffin at the vampire hotel is not as comfortable as the one at home. Or perhaps Guillermo didn’t recall to hand his ancestral soil to the staff, as caught up as he is in preparations for the event and, most of all, the renovations they need to accommodate Marwa. Yes, that must be it.
He could check himself. However, that would involve getting out of the coffin, and what if his body was just about to give in? What if he ruins his only chance to rest for his big night? No, the obvious solution is a short call through ether to confirm. It’s a good thing they made the connection after their involuntary year apart.
Focusing, Nandor whispers:
“Guillermo de la Cruz, I’m calling you through the ether…”
The signal is shit and it takes him a while to pick up.
“M-master?” The relief his voice brings is automatic. Guillermo might have a million flaws, yet he always knows what to do. “Why— Are you in danger or—?”
“None of that, Guillermo.” Nandor catches himself almost smiling. Almost. “Were you slumbering?”
“I— Not really,” he replies, a bit self-conscious, as humans often are. “I just finished fixing some stuff and now I’m in bed, trying to—”
“Enough with the talking. Did you remember to pack my soil before I got to the hotel?”
“Yes, of course I did. Why?”
He takes an unnecessary breath, questioning if he should tell him or simply ‘hang up.’ He already got the information he needed, even though it didn’t help much.
“I’m experiencing some difficulties with my slumbering,” he decides to explain. What he’s got to lose? “I figured it might have something to do with that.”
“Hm. Well, it doesn’t.”
“I understand.”
“When was the last time you fed? It could also be that. You get kind of restless when you skip meals.”
It shouldn’t surprise him, how well he knows him. For as long as Marwa’s been around, Nandor has made sure not to feed in her presence. It’d probably be alright if he did and he wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid it in a life-or-death situation, but he clings to that light restraint. He’d hate to upset her by bringing back unpleasing memories this early in their relationship.
“I did, yes,” he nods, hoping Guillermo won’t notice the delay. “A normal amount of blood, too. Not particularly virginal or anything.”
“We’re saving that for the party.”
“Yes, and also the drug blood.”
“Some drug blood,” Guillermo points out, in a warning tone he has become far too comfortable using. “And nothing too heavy.”
“Yeesh, I suppose you’re right. I have a honeymoon to attend afterwards.” It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realize Guillermo can’t see him wiggle his eyebrows. “I can’t be passing out on my sweet bride.”
“I mean, sure— You should sleep now, if you don’t want that. It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Guillermo, didn’t you hear a single word I told you? I can’t do that! And I expected you to assist me, but if you’re not—”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Fine.” He sighs. “So you’ve got your soil, you had your dinner, you’re not thinking about afghan hounds…”
“I am now.” They are the most majestic animals in the entirety of creation, only surpassed by horses and those really huge pigs.
“Maybe you’re nervous?”
Guillermo sounds reluctant even suggesting it, as he should. Nandor huffs.
“Nervous!”
“Okay, I just wanted to che—”
“Why would I be nervous?”
“You’re not nervous, alright—”
“That’s such a silly human emotion you’re describing. How could I even—”
“Fine, you’re not nervous, it’s fucking clear!” he explodes.
Nandor shuts his mouth. If they were on a regular phone call, he could hear Guillermo’s heavy breathing.
“Wow…”
“Sorry, got carried away.”
Another pause.
“Perhaps this is making me a bit uneasy.”
“A bit.”
“I am not repeating that, Guillermo.”
“Well, what are you the most worried about?”
That’s a remarkably good question, Nandor thinks bitterly.
“It will be very different from our first wedding. What if she does not like it?”
“Oh, come on, she likes everything!” Again that tone. He’s wise enough to correct himself, coughing. “She’s ecstatic. She was there through the whole planning. She probably had more of a saying on this than the last time you got married.”
“I didn’t have that much of a saying, either…”
“And even if she did hate it, which she doesn’t, she’s obsessed with you. I bet we could do the bare minimum and she’d still love it.”
“We are not doing the bare minimum, though.”
“Exactly.”
Nandor stares at the darkness of his coffin; the last day he’ll sleep in a lonely room. Will he be able to hear Marwa snoring, even in separate caskets? He recalls she was quite the snorer. Although that could have changed. Will she still snore when he turns her? That takes him to the next point.
“What about our journey? Is it all prepared?”
Guillermo seems to choke on air. Humans and their need to breathe; one would expect them to be more careful with that, since they have to do it all their lives.
“Your honeymoon, you mean.”
Nandor realizes now that he could have phrased that better. That, by accident, he somehow alluded to another frustrated journey he had been excited to begin not that long ago. Too late.
“Yes, that is what I mean.” He rubs his temples, exhausted, cautious of not losing connection. “Let’s reiterate. After the wedding, we return to the hotel before sunrise, spend a night or two of passionate love-making—”
“I’m sure we don’t have to discuss all the details—”
“Then, on the fourth night of our marriage, we are heading to our homeland, Al’ Quolanudar, where I shall make her a vampire.”
Guillermo gulps.
“Great… Does she— does she know about Al’ Quolanudar, by the way?”
“No, I have not told her. I’d rather spare us both that conversation.”
“Nandor, you have to tell her. If you arrive there and it’s completely changed, it’ll be a huge shock for her and… Are you sure you don’t want me to—”
“I will not bring a familiar —or ex-familiar— to my honeymoon.”
“I still think you should talk about—”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that. Right now, you were supposed to make me feel less anxious! Which you’re not being very successful at.”
“If you want me to say what you want to hear, you can just ask.”
Nandor groans. This is the sort of “feelings chat” he craved to avoid. Of course he’s going to inform Marwa that Al’ Quolanudar no longer exists! He’s just trying to let her get comfortable in their new reality before he drops the big revelations. Same reason why he won’t feed in front of her. Give the lady a break, for fuck’s sake!
“Do you think she wants me to turn her?” he speaks in a lower voice, barely above a whisper. This is it. This is what he actually wanted to discuss, despite how long it took him to understand.
“Mm… Do you still want me to say what you want to hear?”
“Just tell the truth.”
“She’d have to be insane not to want that.”
“You’re just saying that because it is your wish to become a vampire. Not everybody wishes that.”
“No, I mean— spending eternity with you. She’d have to be insane.”
“I’m not talking about eternity. I’m talking about vampirism.”
“Aren’t they kind of the same thing?”
He shakes his head.
“Not when it comes to her.”
“What do you—”
“You didn’t see the fear in her eyes, Guillermo, but I did. I saw all of them grab all of their belongings, all of my children, and run. I watched her camel leave through the window of my chamber and she stared back at me, rocking my youngest son in her arms. They were the only ones who cried. They faded away into the darkness of the desert and even as they slowly became a single dot in the landscape I could tell she was shushing him, begging him to stop.”
“I’m very sorry about that, Nandor.”
“I bet you are, but you still don’t understand. This is a curse. It was intended as a curse and it took everything I owned away. Forgive me if I’m not thrilled about infecting the love of my life with the very thing that separated us. The thing that made her so afraid of me.”
“She doesn’t seem that scared,” Guillermo reflects after some hesitation. “To me, it seems like she’s seen the person you are now. And she likes it, which is… um, amazing. Why not enjoy it? It’s not like you’re forcing her into vampirism.”
“I would never!” Oh, the thought alone sends shivers down his spine.
“Then you have nothing to be stressed about. It’ll all turn out just fine.”
So they’ve gone through all the risks and insecurities. They’ve examined them all and concluded his insomnia is uncalled for. According to logic, it’s time to say goodnight and forget about this pathetic display of vulnerability. Unfortunately, Nandor is not feeling that smart and is quick to add something that, as harmless as it is, turns the talking up to eleven.
“I hope you find your turtle soon, Guillermo.”
“My— My what?”